


All's Unfair in Love & War

by Bexinthecity247



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: AU, F/M, Hate to Love, Slow Burn, cliches, david is a heartbroken farmer, farmer - Freeform, julia is a newly divorced and damaged barrister, lots of tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25284202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: My little AU- dubbed "the farmer fic" - where David Budd is a cow farmer who meets the tense Julia Montague who has moved to a little village outisde of Glasgow to escape the trauma and scandal of her marriage breakdown.A slowburn, hate-to-love, angst fest with sexy times and passion.
Relationships: David Budd & Julia Montague, David Budd/Julia Montague
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	All's Unfair in Love & War

**Author's Note:**

> So I always want to thank everyone who takes the time to read and comment on my other fics.   
> And of course anyone who reads this one :) 
> 
> Comments make my day, really!
> 
> Anywho - this was cultivated from a conversation with the thirst trappers and so ... I blame them for making me write this.

“Come on,” Julia growled to the  increasingly  slow-moving sheep. 

She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel of the BMW that had never quite seemed like hers despite owning it before all that mess in London. These bloody sheep had made her late to and from work already twice this week and she’d  lost count of how many times she’d accosted their shepherd.

Not that it’d made any difference clearly, she thought bitterly as she fought the urging to plough  through the lot of the fur ry fuckers in order to get home before it got dark. Hadn’t she moved here from London to get away from these late nights? 

She scoffed at the idea. It’s not like she had anyone to get home to. Maybe she should get a cat. She grimaced at the idea. God no. Julia barely had enough energy or effort left for herself after dealing with brutal crimes and petty thefts and all the other bullshit she had to endure through her office, let alone dealing with  another living being that would be horribly  dependent on her. No.

“Fucking move!” she screamed more to herself than to the animals blocking her drive before meandering the car into the  graveled space in front of the small cottage that was now home, arching her aching back as she gathered her belongings and stepped out of her car and straight into... sheep shit.

Julia stared down at her Chanel shoe that was once pale pink silk and were now mottled dark brown and a low growl built in her throat until she could no longer contain it and it  it erupted in an angry tirade. She looked to the farmhouse the other side of the field on her  right, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. Other people would say she was partially to blame here; if you picked a house trapped between two farms you had to accept some level of rural  interference . 

But she had n’t really seen the farmhouses, too delighted by the expanse of rolling fields on all sides of her little house, to  realise that someone owned those grasslands for a purpose. That purpose usually being grazing land for one side ’ s  cows and the other, those fucking sheep.

She was unwilling to accept any blame here.

The lights were still on and finally the  stress of her horrid day and the reality of the situation collided as she slammed her car door and stormed down the secluded lane lined with blackberry bushes, until she was standing before the decrepit building that no doubt would look just as bad inside as it did out. 

She sniffed in disgust and brought her fist down on the door, more than once and it never occurred to her that it might  be unsociable to  be making such a  racquet .

The door swung open  to reveal a red faced little old man. He had to be in his seventies for god’s sake, why was he still farming. Atop his head was a raggedy flat cap that had definitely seen better days and his plaid shirt had holes in.

“Good evening, Miss Montague,” he smiled  politely , friendly even and on anyone else it would have been disarming. 

“Your sheep are out again!” she snapped instead.

He gave a  humoured sigh that was too over dramatic to be sincere or apologetic, even as he craned his neck to look behind her.

“Oh dear, I really need to get that fence fixed,” he said jovially. Unfortunately for him, she was in no mood.

“Three times I’ve spoken to you about this and now!” She pulled her stained shoe from her foot and shoved it unceremoniously in the old man’s face. “They’re ruined!”

The man opened his mouth, looked almost mirthful and that was very much the wrong reaction.

“I’m very sorry, love,” he said , pulling the hat from his head, worrying it between his old hands, and in her very angry opinion, he didn’t seem apologetic at all. 

Julia replaced the shoe upon her foot and straightened her back. She tilted her head and clenched her jaw.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she said, almost more in disbelief than anger. 

He couldn’t surely think that was the end of  it.

“I don’t really... my sister in law works in Clarks, in the city,  If you mention me, she’d be able to sort you out,” he smiled as if he was doing her a most wonderful and generous favour. 

A hollow laugh tore free from her throat.

“I’m sorry?” she stammered.  Surely, he was mocking her. “These are Chanel. Designer heels that you won’t find in bloody Clarks!” 

The old man’s weathered face folded in concern.

“Oh dear ,” he murmured , twisting the hat so furiously it would surely never return to its proper shape.

Finally, the wind was knocked out of her.

“I’ll send you  the bill, and we’ll have to sort it, Mr...” She probed her memory, wondering whether she’d ever actually  known his name.

“MacLeod, ma’am,” he said  pointedly, and she flushed, irritation flaring back up. “Jonty MacLeod.”

“Right,” she only said, stalking back the way she came before she stopped at the edge of his rusted gate. “And fix that that fucking fence!”

She traipsed back to her cottage in a  storm cloud of thoughts, hugging her jumper tighter around her as the cool heavy air washed over here, and not for the first time, she wondered why the hell she’d moved here in the first place?

Oh right... yes... Roger. 

She grimaced.

-x-

The strands of Bach’s cello suits plucked along pleasantly in her ear as her feet pounded the ground, and her heartbeat thumped in time to match. Julia’s breath was sharp, exhaled in bursts as she sidestepped a rock and carried along her pa th, the same route she took every day that she wasn’t working early.

It was on mornings like this, when the golden light started to dust the hills and distant mountains, that she thought she might come to love this place. 

As she swung her arms, her chestnut hair, in a tight ponytail, swung back and forth grazing the base of her neck, fanning the sweat that had pooled there. Thoughts had drifted further from her polluted life, until nothing but s ymphonic melodies soothed Julia into a relaxed  state despite the burn in her muscles that usually accompanied her daily 5k runs. A sense of accomplishment flooded her system like adrenaline as she turned into her drive, the music ceasing as she replaced the phone in her pocket and the external quiet of the countryside returned to her senses.

This was why she left London, at least part of the reason, she thought airily. And it was why she wouldn’t move to the city. Her springy step stopped when she saw the alien black and battered jeep sitting  unwelcomed beside her BMW.

As she got closer, she turned up her nose at the smattering of mud on the vehicle that was clearly not cared for. It was pocked with so many dents and marks, Julia was almost hesitant to meet its owner. The vehicle was empty however,  through the presence of tools and  a jacket slung over the open window indicated someone was around. More importantly, they were on her property!

“Hello?” she called, huffing in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of exercise.

She took steps towards the house,  buoyed by irritation rather than fear as she rolled her aching shoulders and wiped sweat off her forehead.

She rounded the side of the house that been blocked from sight by the monstrous  4x4 and stumbled upon a man’s  bottom pointed high in the air as he bent over piles of  plywood . Julia dropped to one hip, her hand going to the opposite side of her waist, pinching slightly.

“Excuse me,” she said icily, clenching her haw as  the man, not much taller than she, drew to his full height without turning around. His shoulders moved with what she suspected was a weary sigh and his gloved fingers moved over the handle of the hammer that hung by his side. “Excuse me, I don’t know who you think you are, but this is my-” 

He threw the hammer down, colliding it with the wood with a clatter, and he turned to face her abruptly. She  swallowed , rendered speechless for only a moment, eyes roaming over his form. The trousers and hoodie he wore were just as muddy and uncared for as his truck and his hands were clad in leather workman’s gloves which he removed before running his fingers through his dark curls. 

As he did, she noticed, rather late for someone as perceptive as Julia, that a grey streak spread from his scalp and  bled through the messy mop of hair. She hated the way she watched his hand, searching for evidence of a ring.

“I’m guessing you’re Julia,” he said in a tone that was, even by her standards, cold and she narrowed her eyes. His mouth was pinched but she couldn’t fail to notice the pink fullness of his lips, so unlike the mouth of some farmer.

“Yes, Ms. Montague,” she corrected and watched the stiffness in his shoulders increase. “And you are?”

“David,” he only said.

-x-

David watched as the woman in front of him seemingly tasted his name, face scrunching like it tasted of old pennies.

“Well, David,” she said and the way her eyes darkened, told him she was  condescending him. “That's all good and well, but what are you doing in my driveway?”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, glance heavy as he looked over her. He almost liked the way she didn’t seem to care that she looked as red as a beetroot, and sweaty from a run, he surmised, given her attire.

“This is private property.”

At this, his irritation flared up.

“Aye, I’m well aware, we are in fact  neighbours , ” he tried to dampen his budding glee at her obvious irritation, given the flaring of her nostrils and the  depending shade of red upon her cheeks. In  fact, she looked almost  burgundy and all that was missing was literal steam from her ears.

His mouth twitched at the corners, desperate to smile at her anger.  If she didn’t look like she was chewing on ten wasps, she’d perhaps be  attractive,  beautiful even but the sour  look on her face doused any  burgeoning fire. 

“And?” she crossed her arms and arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“And … what?” he levelled back at her in a similarly cold tone. He rested his face in what he hoped was an impressive display of impassivity, his thumb hooked casually into his belt loop.

Her eyes flashed and he was pleased by her reaction.

“Are you going to explain what you’re doing on my property?” 

The way her glance raked over him like he was nothing worth wasting time on , made his skin prickle and the hairs on the back of his neck rose, similar he imagined, to how a dog’s hackles rose. She really was a piece of work.

“I believe you wanted the fence fixed.” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow  as he indicated the pile of wood behind him. 

“You?” she hissed, eyes wide and he wondered if she was about to become repentant. Judging by the next thing she said, he had no doubt she would not. “I expected someone qualified... a proper  landscaper, not some farmhand from  next door .”

“Aye, me. Jonty - ” he paused to lean in, gruffness clawing at his throat when she showed no recognition at the name. He couldn’t halt the snarl that carrie d his next words. “That’s the old man you were rude to . He’s an old family friend, and after you worried him half to death, he asked me to fix the fence. It may have escaped your  notice, but I am not a novice when it comes to fixing them, I have enough of my own to take care of. So that’s what I was doing until you  interrupted me.”

The woman’s face contorted until she looked almost  unrecognisable in her rage.

“I don’t think it’s rude to insist on him stopping his animals from roaming onto  my land, do you?” 

He could tell she was defensive. Could she really be  trying to justify her standoffish behaviour?

“You’re new here, Miss Montague,” David said, tasting her name on his tongue, but  it soon soured moments later, “you don’t exactly belong … you make no effort to join in the com munity. You don’t even go to the pub for Christ’s sake.  So, I get you might not  realise the closeness of this  village but make no mistake; we look out for one another here.”

He knew he was over- reacting, but he didn’t care.

“Since when does going to a local establishment, that is barely a  second-rate back street watering hole, by the way, constitute whether someone belongs or not. What a ludicrous concept.”

He scoffed; she really wasn’t from around here. He wondered  how she dealt with such an isolated existence, especially if she got herself into such a state over some sheep shit.

“It’s just how things are around  here; you’d do well to try and be one of us .” He kind of enjoyed teasing her, even if it was horribly at her expensive. He imagined it’d do him no  favours but still, he couldn’t resist.

She rolled her eyes and with her next sentence, she’d taken away any spark of enjoyment he had felt, with her ignorance of his people.

“If you’re expecting me to start slugging whiskey, wearing nothing but tartan and set up my own miserable cow farm, you’d be  disap -”

“We aren’t all red headed, kilt wearing heathens who get drunk, kidnap women to marry and sacrifice lambs at the altar you know. We have somewhat evolved since then ,” he said with an arched eyebrow and her sparkling hazel eyes flicked away.

“I meant no offence,” she countered. 

He doubted that but when her glance locked back with his, he saw an unusual display of what he thought might be sincerity. Her reputation had preceded her, following her from where she’d come from, and she’d certainly done nothing to disprove her abrupt personality , given the way she’d spoken to  Jont . And yet, his mouth twitched upwards.

David held up his palm in supplication, accepting her non-existent apology without speaking. Arguing with her would only  lead to further frustration, he suspected.

“Will this take long?” she said abruptly, raking a hand over her tied hair as if  through muscle memory and as she let her guard down, just for a split second, she looked lost and a bizarre need to ...what? protect her? 

Don't be fucking ridiculous, he chided inwardly.  When he looked at her, her face was back to being scrunched up in that severe matronly way that had put him off fifteen minutes or so, ago.

“The fence?” she  huffed, and he started.

“Oh... erm... no I’ll probably have it done in a day or two,” he said, looking absentmindedly to the wood. Off her distast e ful glance, he said, “don’t worry, Jonty has his sheep in the other field. They  won’t bother you until it’s done.”

“Good, I just want this sorted as quickly as possible so … just get on with it and we’ll get on fine, okay?” she said at last and he nearly scoffed.

Yes, this woman, this prickly... badger was in no need of his protection.

“Aye, ma’am,” he drawled and turned his back, pulling his gloves back on and signifying the end of their interaction. 

As he began assembling the wood into place, he was acutely aware of her retreating footsteps on the gravel before he spared a glance in her direction to find she had already gone inside. 

-x-

David arched his back, rubbed a hand over his scruffy hair and massaged the soreness in his neck. The fence had been physic ally draining and while he had initially decided to doing the work over two or three days, upon meeting the resident, he deduced it would be safer to work until it was finished in one go. Even if that meant he’d worked his  arse off until the early evening.

As if on cue, to point out his poor choices, his stomach growled in hungry protest.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured as he rounded into the kitchen. 

The elderly collie he’d insisted on keeping around, had only just opened his eyes when he saw his master approach. He lifted his more grey-than-black head and yawned lazily, bushy tail thumping an enth usiastic greeting as David smiled, bending to ruffle the animal’s hair.

“Hey there,” he said, burying his hand in the warmth for a moment too long, lost in his own memories as his eyes filled with  unsheddable tears. 

He cleared his throat and drew up to full height.

“Right, tea - time  Big Yin,” he said to the lazy old dog before craning his neck to look past the kitchen window, straining his eyes against the impending dusk. He frowned , turning to the collie and murmured to himself,  “ wh ere’s Ella hmm? Probably in the barn again, right?” 

The dog gave no answer and instead of prolonging his concern over the other  occupant of the old farmhouse, he turned to the limited provisions in the cupboard with a grimace. Soup again tonight. 

As he watched the liquid bubbling in the pan, lifting a cold bottle of some store brand beer to his lips, he mentally began sums. If only he could gain a foothold with his father’s debts, the fa rm might not have been in such a terrible crisis.

He could ask Stephen to help... a loan perhaps – nay chance! He dismissed the idea before it had even taken hold; his brother had abandoned them a long time ago, David didn’t feel the need to drag him back into his life again.

Even if it had been his father’s last dying wish.

David poured the soup into an old chipped bowl and settled down, pulling his father’s haphazard ledgers and legal papers towards. Even as he went over them again, he knew the numbers would be the same.

Either way he looked at it, the farm was fucked.


End file.
